


Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang (Dressed to Kill, Shoot for Fame)

by DarthAbby



Series: Dressed to Kill, Shoot for Fame [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Blood and Gore, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Genderfluid Character, Guns, Language, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAbby/pseuds/DarthAbby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To overthrow one mad king, you might need the help of an even madder one, and some of the other most notorious criminals in the country. Its one crew against the other, and odds are you won't even survive to see the completion of your plan. The way some of these idiots act, you might not even survive to see the beginning of it. </p><p>But, hey, you've always said you'd rather go out with lipstick on your cheek and a gun in hand.</p><p>(relationships will be slow burn)</p><p>[chapter 1 completely rewritten as of 12/7/14]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Vanilla Unicorn

On the edges of Liberty City stood an old brick apartment building. The windows were small and the rooms were almost smaller. It had the usual run-down city reek – toilets in need of both flushing and cleaning, bodies in need of either washing or disposing of, and almost-feral tomcats. There used to be regular drug busts, until crime rates of other sorts started climbing.

In a room as equally crappy of those around it, one man was looking out of the windows, surveying what he could see of the city. “You know, this wasn’t always such a piss-hole,” he said. “The city used to be, if not safe, than at least somewhat respectable.”

“Really?” The other man in the room asked distractedly. He was sitting at the only table, a small metal one that had the unfortunate habit of collapsing unexpectedly after an incident involving more than a few drinks and using one of the legs as target practice.

“Yep,” the first man said, not noticing or not caring that the other wasn’t interested. “Never used to have to sleep with a knife, carry a weapon everywhere, watch every passer-by with suspicion. You could walk down to Rob’s Liqueur Store or wherever without having to fight off at least one mugger or pickpocket.”

“Hm,” the other hummed off-handedly, pouring over the maps and papers spread over the scratched and dented surface of the table. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What isn’t?” he frowned, turning away from the window.

“This.” the other man stabbed a finger down onto the map directly in front of him. “This…half-assed plan that calls for both of us to be in four different places at once. It’s not possible, in any sense of the word. Not with just the two of us.”

The first man sighed and ran a hand over his tired face. “We’ve talked about this, man. There’s nobody in this city that I can trust as far as I could throw them.” The other raised a challenging eyebrow, and the first amended his statement. “Except you. You’ve saved my ass plenty of times.”

“You bet your rifle I have,” the other said with a cocky grin. It disappeared as quickly as it had come. “But this isn’t a Mini-Mart or a joyride with Rob’s beer that he doesn’t know we picked up. This is big. Too big for just us. Let me call –”

“ _No_ ,” the first cut him off sternly. “I don’t care what jobs you did in the past, whoever you used to work with certainly didn’t give a rat’s ass when you fell so hard you ended up pickpocketing on the pier. I don’t need any assholes who can’t take care of their team on my side.”

“I _told_ you, he was busy smuggling weapons and I couldn't reach him until after you handed my ass to me and invited me onboard.”

“All the same,” he fixed the other man with a hard look. “I don’t want him on the team. We’ve always managed just fine, just the two of us.”

“Key word being _managed_ ,” the other said icily. “How, exactly,” he referred back to the plans, “Are you going to be breaking in and providing cover fire for yourself, while I’m flying the chopper, taking down cops, _and_ hacking the security system? I’m awful at hacking anyways, and you know it!”

The first man sighed again, heavily. He glanced back towards the windows, and the small framed view of the city beyond. The light was fading, Mount Chiliad casting its long shadow over the taller buildings that blocked their view of the sunset. The silence in the apartment stretched on for two, three, four minutes. Finally, he turned back towards his companion.

“There might be someone who could help us,” he admitted. “I don’t know if they’d be willing to help, but at the very least, I can say I tried, okay?”

The other grinned. “Great! Are you sure you don’t want me to call my old partner?”

“Positive,” the first deadpanned. He grabbed a jacket and his keys.

“Wait, you’re going now? This person is in the city? But you said –!”

“Yeah, I know. But,” he smirked over his shoulder. “The person I’m going to see doesn’t weigh very much, so I could throw them a pretty good distance.”

A few flakes of paint from the doorframe came loose and drifted down to the floor when he slammed the door behind him. The man at the table stared after his partner for a moment before the table collapsed, sending papers flying. He sighed, cursed, and began picking them up. “Maybe this new guy will at least be able to fix the damn table,” he grumbled. “I don’t care how good a shot Geoff is, he is absolutely useless with any handyman shit.”

* * *

 

Geoff didn’t recognize the bouncer at the door when he pulled up outside. He’s surprised for a moment, but really, it’s been five, almost six years since he was last here. Staff changes really shouldn’t be all that shocking. He just hoped the person he’s after hasn’t moved on in all that time.

The tall, muscly blonde stared him down for a moment before letting Geoff pass. He didn’t mind. For as much as a dirtbag as he had become over the years, he still respected the importance of innocent lives, and as much as people looked down on strippers, the girls were still people, too, just trying to make a living.

The Vanilla Unicorn wasn’t the only strip club in town, but it was harsh on any assholes who wandered in to overtly harass the girls and treated its employees right. A small rush of nostalgia went through Geoff as he walked in – some very good times, and some very bad, had happened in this building. Hopefully, the person at the center of most of both was still working at the club, or he was screwed. And not even in a good way.

He had arrived during the shift change. Only a few patrons were seated at the bar, a pretty girl with a dark braid and glasses serving them. Two girls were chatting by the DJ booth, wearing coats and low-slung sweatpants; presumably the dancers who had just finished their shift. He strolled over with a smile.

“Hello,” he said, stopping far enough away to not look threatening.

The redhead looked him up and down, seemingly unimpressed, while the black haired girl gave him a blank look, clearly asking what he wanted.

“I’m looking for someone,” he said. “They worked here a while back, not sure if that’s still the case.”

“…and? Who is it?” the redhead asked after a long pause.

“The stage name was Cheetah.”

One of the dark haired girl’s eyebrows flew up. “What do you want with Jack?” Her stare was harder now, as was the redhead’s. Challenging, almost protective. Clearly, they weren’t about to let just anybody near their coworker.

“I just want to talk,” Geoff placated them. “We’re…old friends.”

The redhead pursed her lips. “Jack’s never said anything about some tattooed drunk with a mustache before.”

“I’m _not_ drunk,” he scowled. “Just send word I’m here, okay? Jack can decide if I’m allowed back or not.”

The redhead narrowed her eyes, but turned and went back towards the dressing rooms behind the stage. The black haired girl stayed where she was, watching him suspiciously.

“What’s your name?” he asked after a short, awkward silence.

“Sapphire,” she answered flatly.

“No, I mean, what’s your real name?”

She didn’t answer.

“What about your friend?”

“Infernus.”

He gave up. Clearly, she wasn’t interested in small talk, or giving him any real information.

Finally, the redhead – Infernus – came back out. “Jack said to send you back,” she said, looking clearly unhappy with the idea. “Second door on the left.” Sapphire looked even less happy with the news than Infernus, but they didn’t have much choice in the matter. Geoff thanked them anyways and headed backstage. Another girl passed him on her way to the stage, wearing red lingerie that nicely contrasted with her white-blonde hair. She gave him a cursory glance, hardly noticing he wasn’t part of the usual Vanilla Unicorn staff before heading on to get ready for her set. Geoff hardly had time to feel slightly insulted before a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

“Don’t mind Juliet. Once she gets in the zone, she hardly even looks at _me_.”

He started to turn with a smile. “Jack.”

That was all he was able to get out before a fist was flying through the air, connecting painfully with his jaw.

As he cursed and cupped his chin, Jack stepped forward. Auburn hair cut in a short bob, a self-satisfied grin on their face, and looking disarmingly non-threatening in a floral print shirt and green pants, they seemingly hadn’t aged a day.

“Hello, Geoffrey,” Jack said cheerfully. “That was for hijacking my car, then returning it two days later with both taillights smashed.”

“Hey, at least I returned it!”

They slowly raised an eyebrow. “ _Both_ taillights. And the right wing mirror was nearly completely torn off.”

Geoff grimaced and let go of his aching jaw. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.” He didn’t even try arguing that it had happened nearly six years ago and bygones should be bygones. That would probably just get him punched again. Jack nodded, satisfied for the moment.

“Come on, I doubt this is a purely social visit.”

They led Geoff into the dressing room, entering just as a dancer rushed out.

“Hurry up, Nikki!” Jack warned. “You’re supposed to be on in two minutes!”

“I know, sorry, Cheetah!” the girl hardly had time to reply before running off, impressively well-balanced in her purple thigh-high boots.

“Are you still entertaining, _Cheetah_?” Geoff asked as he leaned against the back of a couch.

“Hardly,” Jack laughed. “I’m stage manager now, with occasional DJ duties. The last time I was on stage in just my underwear was two years ago.” They shrugged. “The name gets stuck fast, though. I don’t mind. I can still swing on the pole in a pinch.” Their arms crossed as they sat down with authority in one of the makeup chairs. “What do you want, Geoff?”

“Help,” he said bluntly. “Be it an extra pair of hands or information, I don’t care. But I need a little extra this time.”

“Must be big if you’re running back to me.”

He frowned a little – he was not ‘running back’ to _anyone_ – but couldn’t risk alienating Jack further, and so didn’t complain. “Biggest I’ve pulled in years. Might be the biggest yet.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What are you doing, hitting a bank?”

“Not quite. Look, I’ll tell you more after you’ve agreed to lend a hand, okay?”

They squinted at him, quietly thinking. “How many people do you have so far?”

“Just me and a friend. You, if you want to come along.”

“Three person job?”

“Honestly?” Geoff grimaced. “It’s more like a six or seven person job. Which is why my buddy and I don’t have a chance if we try to go it alone.”

“So, what do you want? Names? Recommendations?”

“Preferably you, but if there’s someone you trust enough for the job of a lifetime, I’d be willing to talk to them.” It might have been years since they last saw each other, they might have parted on a pretty sour note, but Geoff always had and always would trust Jack’s judgment. Said judgment had not only saved both of their lives more than once, it had also saved Geoff from probably tumbling down an even darker road.

Jack nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay? Okay, you’ll join my team, or okay, you’ll give me some names?”

They smiled slightly. “Both. I’ll need to know more about what you have planned before I start making calls, but I’m sure there’s someone on my list who’ll be able to help.”

Geoff smiled back. “Awesome as ever, Jack. Here,” he grabbed a scrap of paper off a table, scribbling his apartment address on it and handing it over. “Stop by some time tomorrow. I’ll be there.”

Jack glanced at the paper. “Well then, I’ll see you around, Geoff.”

He gave a lazy, two-fingered salute. “I look forward to it.”

As he left, making his way back out front and out the door, his smile vanished. Even if Jack had a boatload of names, there was no telling if any of them would be up to, or agree to, the job. The risks were high – there was a strong chance even he wouldn’t make it to see the completion of the plan, if it got that far. But if they made it, if they were successful…

Well, there was a reason he was still trying to make this happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack's character inspired by fakeahcomics on tumblr. Ah, who am I kidding, all of them are going to end up influenced by her. Especially Jack and Ryan because sweet Jesus those headcanons. If you know her stuff, I'm going to tell you right now that floofy puppy Edgar will definitely make an appearance. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. A Madman and a Pyromaniac (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the first chapter has bee COMPLETELY rewritten. This chapter won't make sense if you haven't read that one first.

“You’ve lost your goddamn mind, Geoff.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t dispute it. “Any other comments?”

“Yeah,” Jack scowled. “This isn’t going to work unless you find the best of the best, and get them to agree to work together. They probably can’t be locals, either, or at least be new enough to the area that they haven’t formed any connections with another group. It’s just,” they shook their head, “I don’t see this ending well for anyone, Geoff.”

“Not right now, but you said it yourself! All I need is a team, and we’ll be in business.” He waved a hand to the bag under Jack’s chair. “So, do you have anyone that meets the criteria?”

They sighed and grabbed the bag. “Well, there’s one person who might be up for your fucking _scheme_. But even if he agrees to come, I doubt you’d like him.”

“Jack, if he’s on your list, he can’t be all that bad.”

They gave him a withering look. “I think I can make that call better than you, seeing as I’ve actually met the guy before.” A manila envelope was pulled out and set on the table. Geoff stared at the front, where only two words were written.

_Mad King_

“This isn’t the _actual_ Mad King, is it?”

“Would I give you a cheap copy?”

No, Jack would never do that. But… “No one knows who the Mad King is,” Geoff protested. “And he’s completely uncontrollable. He killed a cashier because they shortchanged him on accident by three cents!”

Jack waved a dismissive hand. “ _That_ one is actually just a rumor. I told you, Geoff, I’ve met the guy. He’s a bit off the rails, but he’s brave, or maybe stupid, enough to maybe go along with your plan.” They sat back, satisfied with themself for surprising the boss. “He’s not a ghost, Geoff. I know his name,” they patted the envelope, “And it’s right here.”

“If he was a ghost, I wouldn’t be as worried.” Geoff sighed, defeated. “Fine. Make the call. See if the King will even answer.”

* * *

 

_“What.”_

_“It’s Jack.”_

_“I don’t care.”_

_“Jack Pattillo.”_

_“…what do you want.”_

_“I’m working a job. Could use a…”_

_“Loophole guy?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“I’m not the only mercenary in the world.”_

_“I know. But you’re one of the few who might take this without flinching.”_

_“What are you up to, Pattillo?”_

_“A few heists, at first. Working up to something much bigger, and much more impressive.”_

_“And what’s the ‘bigger and more impressive’?”_

_“Well, you’ll just have to come and find out, won’t you?”_

_“_ _…”_

_“…hello?”_

_“I’m still here, don’t get your hopes up.”_

_“…”_

_“Tell me where to go. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll hear what you have to say.”_

_“Thanks.”_

* * *

 

“I can’t believe I just gave my address to the Mad King. Willingly.” Geoff groaned as Jack hung up.

“Technically, you didn’t give him anything. I did all the talking.”

“Shut up, Jack.”

“Fine,” they rolled their eyes. “When am I going to meet your other guy?” The two of them had been at the apartment nearly all afternoon, but there was no sign of the friend Geoff had mentioned before.

“Soon,” he answered vaguely. It had taken a lot of convincing, but Geoff had finally agreed to let the other call his former partner last night. They had agreed that while Geoff got Jack up to speed, the other would head up to a safe location on Chiliad and make his call, away from any distractions that might prevent him from sweet-talking his suspicious old partner into helping out. “He’s trying to round up some more help.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Got a name?”

“All I know is he goes by Mogar.”

The file on the King was slid across the table to Geoff as Jack went back to their bag to look at more files, muttering to themself.

* * *

 

_MAD KING_

_Name: Haywood, James Ryan_  
 _(prefers middle name)_  
 _Alias’ (known): Mad King, ‘Skeletor’_  
 _Description: Male, approx. 6’, Caucasian, blue eyes, blond hair_  
 _Age: 34_  
 _Marital Status: Widowed_  
 _Wanted: Murder, Armed Robbery, Assault, Kidnapping, etc._  
 _Location: Unknown (wanderer)  
_ _Met: March 12, 2011_

_Observations: Haywood is most notable for his usual anonymous mask, the Black Skull. Some digging found his name and description. Very secretive, and despite stories to the contrary, was decidedly non-violent during the meeting. Unable to find any records on his wife other than that she is deceased – did he wipe the files? Is she even dead? Haywood has plenty of unknown skills – perhaps computer hacking is one of them._

_Conclusion: Very Dangerous. Possibly mentally unstable. Watch him around weapons of any sort – especially explosives._

_Hell, just watch him. He could probably make a weapon out of a plastic spoon and three inches of duct tape._

~~_But seriously, what happened to Mrs. Haywood?_ ~~

* * *

 

Not exactly words to inspire courage.

 _This_ was the guy Jack had invited over?

Geoff glanced over at the fridge, wondering if it was even worth getting up to get another beer at this point. Sounded like he was going to get wasted one way or another, anyways.

Jack made a triumphant noise, pulling out another file from the bag. “Gotcha.”

“What?” Geoff asked warily, hoping there wasn’t a Mad Queen to go with the King or something.

“Mogar,” Jack grinned, sliding the file over. “I knew the name sounded familiar. He’s…interesting, to say the least.”

Geoff raised an eyebrow, opening this new file.

* * *

 

_Mogar_

_Name: M(?) Jones_  
 _Alias’ (known): Mogar, ‘Wildcard’_  
 _Description: Male, around 6’, Caucasian, brown eyes, brunet_  
 _Age: Unknown_  
 _Marital Status: Unknown_  
 _Wanted: Illegal Weapons Trade, Murder, Armed Robbery, Theft of Government Property_  
 _Location: New England, East Coast  
_ _Met: N/A_

_Observations: Jones is well known among the intelligence community for weapon and vehicle procurement, especially of the untraceable sort. He seems to operate primarily out of the East Coast region of New England, but is known to follow shipments of more sensitive nature all over the country, and perhaps the world. Despite his apparent proximity to some of the prime mob areas, Jones has no known affiliation with any of the families in operation. Called the ‘Wildcard’ in some circles, he reportedly has a penchant for explosions and explosive devices, particularly rocket launchers, and is fond of using rocket and grenade launchers against figures of authority and those who cross him._

_Conclusion: Thrill-Seeker. Jones won’t turn up personally for anything that doesn’t promise some real excitement. If he feels bored, he’ll probably make his own fiery entertainment. As business person, he can be reasoned with, and as a successful smuggler of almost everything and anything, he is without a doubt clever and crafty. Give him something worthwhile if you want his help._

* * *

 

Geoff sighed a little. Jones didn’t sound as menacing as Haywood, but he was still undoubtedly dangerous.

“Don’t worry,” Jack counseled, “If your guy gets Mogar to come down, you’ll have a smart guy who won’t leave until the job is done. That’s a valuable asset on any team. Just don’t screw him over, of course.”

Geoff laughed, humorlessly and a bit shrilly. “ _Don’t worry_? I’ve only got the Mad King coming over for drinks, and a pyromaniac from the East Coast with a shitton of connections probably on his way, both hopefully to help me pull the biggest job this town has seen in years. Why the hell would I be worried?”

He stood up and got his goddamn beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments!


	3. A Madman and a Pyromaniac (part 2)

_Ring…ring…ring…click._

_“Jerry, I swear to god, if you don’t leave me the fuck alone, I’m going to grab you by the dick and shove a grenade so far up your ass –”_

_“Calm down, you dolt, it’s me.”_

_“Gavin?”_

_“_ _Yeah. Who’s Jerry, Michael? And why are you going to shove a rocket up his arse?”_

_“Grenade. Or maybe C4. Haven’t decided yet. And it’s not important right now. Haven’t heard from you in an age and a half, boi.”_

_“Been busy. Actually, that’s why I called you.”_

_“Did that Jared guy you’ve been boning kick you out?”_

_“_ _It’s Geoff, I have not been boning him, and no, he hasn’t. Are you in the middle of anything?”_

_“An episode of ‘Game of Thrones’.”_

_“I mean a job.”_

_“No.”_

_“_ _Want one?”_

_“Does it involve going to the middle of butt-fuck nowhere?”_

_“Well, I mean, Los Santos isn’t that isolated…” _

_"Oh hell no.”_

_“Mi-cool!”_

_“Shut up. You still can’t say anything English for shit, especially my name.”_

_“But –!”_

_“Shut up and let me talk, dickhead. I’ve been to Los Santos one other time, running some military-grade SMGs for some asshole with an ego that tries to compensate for his dick, and it was awful. The city is awful, the people are awful, the police are awful, and everything smells like a cat that rolled in dead fish.”_

_“This is going to be a huge take, though! Thousands for everyone, probably more!”_

_“I make thousands every day.” “_

_It’s got to be pretty boring the way you do it, though.”_

_“…”_

_“Just taking orders, making calls, sometimes showing up at a drop point to stare menacingly at your client and take a briefcase full of twenties. There’s no action in that, and you love action, my boi.”_

_“…”_

_“Just come down to hear us out, yeah? You don’t have to say yes, but give it a chance, okay?”_

_“…fine.”_

_“_ _Really?!”_

_“Yeah, yeah, don’t wet yourself. I’ll come take a look, but that is it. I make no promises on any job offers, clear?” _

_“Crystal! Thank you!”_

_“Whatever. Just give me the goddamn address.”_

* * *

 

It’s nearly an hour after Jack called the King that Geoff’s friend comes back, nearly bouncing with excitement. Gangly, clumsy, and with some ridiculous hair, Gavin all but crashes through the door, hardly even noticing the new person sitting at the table in his excitement.

“Geoff! I got ahold of Mogar and he agreed to come and talk,” he said, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet like a proud preschooler. “He can be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“That should work,” Geoff nodded, looking thoughtful. “Haywood’s supposed to get here around then, too, so I’ll only have to explain this once, hopefully.”

Gavin nodded, and then finally noticed the painfully obvious. “Who’re you?”

“Jack,” they rose from the table to shake the Brit’s hand.

“Gavin,” he introduced cheerfully. “You must be the information specialist Geoff keeps going on about.”

Jack smirked slightly, raising an eyebrow at Geoff. “Glad to hear you still hold me in such high regards.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Gavin, let me fill you in on what’s going on.”

That was as far as he got before the table collapsed, sending papers flying.

“God- _fucking_ -dammit!”

* * *

 

He rode into town a little past ten in the morning in a stolen car with the wrong plates. He had picked the car because it had a pretty decent radio. Currently a song he didn’t know, but was starting to like, was playing. The lyrics appealed to him.

_Baby, you wanna see me crazy?_  
 _Well, I’ll show you what that’s like,_  
 _And then I’ll wave goodbye_  
 _As you run for your life._

With time to kill, he ended up down at the beach. It was full of (probably) innocent people and small shops. There was a boardwalk with a Ferris Wheel and a small roller coaster, and no doubt stocked with plenty of scams disguised as ‘simple’ games.

He briefly debated going over to hijack the games, then noticed that one of the shops had a small display of costume masks.

Ryan grinned and headed over there instead.

* * *

 

It was nearly one in the afternoon, and Geoff’s nerves were wearing pretty thin. He had resorted to pacing back and forth in the small apartment, glass of scotch in hand. Gavin and Jack were sitting on the couch, having a bit of a circuitous conversation.

“So, you’re a guy?”

“No,” Jack answered patiently, although there was definitely more shortness in their tone then there had been half an hour ago. “I’m biologically a woman, but I’m not either.”

“So, you’re not a bird, and you’re not a bloke,” Gavin said for the umpteenth time.

“No.”

“But then what _are_ you?”

“I’m…I’m just _Jack_ , okay?”

“But what do I call you?”

“ ** _Jack_**.”

“But like, do I use him, her, or what?”

Jack sighed. “I prefer they and them pronouns.”

Gavin finally quieted down to think over this, brow furrowed. Jack rolled their eyes and stood to get a drink of their own. They briefly touched Geoff’s shoulder as they passed, a small gesture of ‘calm down, you idiot’.

Jack had just popped open their beer when a quiet knock came on the door, followed by a much bolder, more impatient knock. Geoff straightened his collar and opened the door.

The shorter man barged in first, complaining loudly about the trip, though he was interrupted when Gavin all but threw himself onto the man with an excited squawk.

Geoff kept the reunion in the corner of his eye, focusing more on the person who sauntered through the door with cool grace. A few inches taller than Geoff, the Mad King was wearing his signature Black Skull mask and a black and blue leather jacket. Blue eyes glittered from within the depths of the eye sockets in the mask. “Ramsey.”

“Haywood.” Geoff shot back, trying not to show how unnerved he felt with one of the most famous sociopaths among the underground community less than three feet away.

“Hello, Ryan,” Jack greeted calmly, coming up to stand behind Geoff.

The eyes didn’t leave Geoff’s face as he greeted them shortly. “Jack.”

“Geoff!” Gavin exclaimed suddenly, pulling up his friend. “This is Mogar!”

The curly haired brunet stuck his hand out. “Presumably nice to meet you, Ramsey.”

“Same to you, Jones.” Geoff offered small smirk as he shook hands with the weapons dealer. “Come on, let’s all go sit down. You guys want a drink?”

“I’ll take a beer,” Jones called as he wandered over to the couch. Haywood followed silently, leaning against the wall by the small window, arms crossed over his chest, revealing a bulge on his side that was surely a handgun of some kind in a shoulder holster. Geoff didn’t comment – his own gun was tucked into his waistband under his jacket.

“So,” Jones said as he took the beer Gavin handed to him. “What is so goddamn important that I had to haul ass all the way from the East Coast to hear about it?”

Geoff grinned, feeling more at ease now that he was more in control of the situation. “Gentlemen,” he said, grabbing a map of the city from the folding table and holding it up with a flourish. “We’re going to stage a heist on the heisters.” He pointed to a building that was south-central in Liberty City. “This is the base for the crew that runs this town. We’re going to take them down.”

“The Cockbytes,” Jack clarified. “They’ve been in charge for ages – since I moved here, at least.”

Geoff nodded. “And they’ve gotten too comfortable at the top. I think it’s time to remind them that sitting at the top of the pyramid is a pain in the ass.”

Haywood was still silent, but Jones raised an eyebrow. “Will this involve explosions, guns, fire, bombs, and/or lots of death?”

“All of the above.”

He grinned. “Where do I sign, boss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if I missed anything in my editing! And thanks for the kudos and comments!!
> 
> The song Ryan listens to is 'Aspiring Fires' by Mother Mother, which is just so perfectly GTA AU Ryan that I had to throw it in.


	4. Worried What the Future Holds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry about the gap between updates. I had to take a break from RT/AH for a while, especially the GTA 'verse. But now I'm back! And for your patience, have a nice, long chapter with some Ray and bonus character development thrown in.
> 
> Random Fact: Chapter title comes from the song 'Worried About Ray' by the Hoosiers, which I had on repeat while writing it.

_“Geoff, hey, Geoff! Wait up!”_

_He turned with an easy smile. “Hey, Joel. What’s up?”_

_“Burnie wants to talk to you. Something about adding more people.”_

_Geoff frowned slightly. “We aren’t ready for that yet, we can’t even afford a full pay for the seven of us as it is.”_

_Joel sighed. “Trust me, I know. I’ve invested every penny I can spare, and I’m still just scraping by.” _

_The tattooed man’s eyes widened in alarm, worried his friend was about to launch into another spiel about gold. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “I’ll talk to Burnie about this, he can’t possibly be serious.” He walked away briskly, feeling only a little bad about leaving Joel like that. He really didn’t want another lecture on stocks, though._

* * *

 

“Hey.”

A small word, but enough to jolt Geoff out of his memories. He blinked, looking over to see Jack standing next to him. “Hey,” he replied.

They offered him a small smile before turning to look out over the city, the numerous lights still on blotting out the stars.

Geoff looked back towards the view as well, still thinking back on the earlier days, back when everything seemed so much simpler – get the money, get back alive, get drunk with the others. Rinse and repeat. Back when he wasn’t in charge of some of the scariest people in America, when he was just a lackey who had yet to make a name for himself, working for and with other no-names. Back before titles like ‘Kingpin’ were established.

Jack nudged him slightly, catching the dark look forming on his face. “Easy now,” they said lightly. “It’s too early in all of this to get that doom-and-gloom-y.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. Just…thinking.”

“About them, right?” They nodded in the vague direction of downtown.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Them. Before…”

Jack nodded silently. They had met Geoff and his old team a long time ago, before Geoff had even tried anything with Jack beyond watching their strip routine. He had been almost carefree back then, hardly even worried about taking a bullet during a job, happy with his team and his position, way back before he saw how horrible his team really was, how bad he himself was.

Jack knew Geoff had tried to leave Los Santos altogether, get away from the trouble that plagued everyone’s steps, but it just hadn’t happened. He grew distant from his team, tried the honest thing for a while, but it’s hard to crawl out of a hole as deep as the one he had dug. He had built himself up to be somewhat respectable, took in a stray that tried to pickpocket him, and then fell to small things, just enough to float by. And, apparently, dreaming up a plan to try and set things right.

Or, possibly, to make them even worse. Jack wasn’t sure at this point. They didn’t think Geoff was either.

“So, Boss,” they said, trying to steer the conversation away from the heavy shit that neither of them were drunk enough for at the moment. “What are we going to do now?”

“Now?” Geoff smiled slightly, eyes starting to gleam with the old excitement, though more subdued than Jack remembered. “Now we pick a store to rob.”

* * *

 

Michael woke with a slurred curse as his phone rang insistently. He fumbled for it in the dark, thumbing the answer button and snarling into it; “This better be really fucking important.”

_“Hello to you, too.”_

He bit back a groan. “Ramsey. What do you want at the ass crack of dawn?”

 _“Not dawn yet,”_ the older man informed him cheekily.

“Then why the _hell_ are you calling?”

_“How good are you at sniping?”_

“Sniping? Not my thing. You want something blown up, I got you covered.”

A soft curse came over the line, making Michael smirk. _“Do you know where we can get a sniper on short notice?”_

“Have you tried asking the King?” He wondered briefly about the probability of losing limbs and possibly life if one woke up the Mad King before he was ready to get up, but the numbers were too high for such an early hour and he let it go.

_“Nah, I need him elsewhere. So, come on, you got a guy or not?”_

Michael sighed. “Yeah, there’s someone I could call. I don’t know how long it’d take him to get here, though.”

_“This isn’t time-sensitive, that’s fine. Have I heard of him?”_

“Maybe,” Michael stifled a yawn before continuing. “BrownMan ringing any bells?”

_“ The BrownMan? No shit, dude? That’s awesome.”_

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not calling him until it’s a decent hour, though.” In all probability, the sniper was still awake and playing Call of Duty, but Michael actually valued his sleep, unlike some people.

_“Fair enough. Let me know what he says.”_

“No problem, Boss,” Michael sighed. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

_“Yeah, go back to bed, Jones. I’ll see you tomorrow.”_

“See you tomorrow, asshole.” Michael hung up and tossed his phone back towards the night stand, intent on getting at least a few more hours of sleep before calling a certain snarky Puerto Rican.

* * *

 

The brunet didn’t show up to Geoff’s apartment until nearly noon the next day, walking in and arguing with someone on the phone.

“Dude, come on, it’s just – yeah, I _know_ that, you big baby, you haven’t shut up about it for three years.”

Geoff watched him with amusement while Jack typed away furiously on their laptop. Gavin was on a beer run, and Geoff didn’t know where Haywood was. Hopefully not killing anyone, or at least not anyone important.

Jones pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep from yelling. “Look, I’m not joshing you, okay? This is real.” He paused, listening to who Geoff presumed was BrownMan. “When have I ever let you down? And that time in Chicago doesn’t count! I couldn’t have done anything about that and you know it!” He stopped to listen again, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, fine, I just got here, luckily for you, so you can talk to him right now.” He tossed the phone to Geoff without warning, who fumbled with it for a moment before putting it up to his ear.

“Are you my sniper?”

 _“Well, let’s not be hasty, here,”_ a voice younger and more relaxed than he had expected answered. _“I mean, I don’t even know what you want from me yet.”_

“Your baking skills,” Geoff snorted. “What the hell do you think I want? Your sharp eyes and good record.”

_“Excuse you, my record is flawless, even when the other idiots fuck up the job.”_

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

_“What do you want, references? Sure, let me just call up some of the various people who asked me to fill a hit for them.”_

“Look, do you want the job or not? It’s nothing big right now, just some cover for my team, but if everything works out, we’ll move on to some bigger stuff.”

_“Bigger?”_

“And better.”

BrownMan was quiet for a moment, thinking. _“What’s the cut going to be like?”_

“If everything goes according to plan, six-way split. If everything does not go according to plan, it might be a bigger cut. I’m a fair boss, I’m not going to take more than my fair share.”

Another pause. _“You say you’re in Los Santos?”_

“Yep.”

_“Last time I was there, there was all sorts of good cover on most of the rooftops. Still true?”_

“Looks like it to me, but I’m not an expert.”

_“Okay.”_

“Okay?”

_“Yeah, I’ll come down, check things out. I haven’t seen Jones in a while anyways.”_

“Great,” Geoff smiled. “When can you be here?”

_“Pick me up at the airport in five hours. I booked a ticket while we were talking.”_

He hung up before Geoff could say anything else. He tossed the phone back to Jones, who smirked at him. “Told you I had a guy.”

“I never doubted you. I hope you’re coming with me to the airport, ‘cause I’ve got no fucking clue what he looks like.”

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, Boss.” He gave a half salute before wandering over to the fridge to grab the last beer. “So, where’re Gavin and Skeletor?” he called over.

“Gav’s getting more booze,” Geoff answered. “No idea where Haywood is.”

Jones snorted. “Oh, that’s great. My money is on him showing up in a few hours, covered in blood with cops on his tail.”

“He wouldn’t be that stupid,” Jack chimed in, never look away from the computer screen. “Ryan isn’t completely nuts, contrary to the rumors. He plays up the crazy a bit, to scare people, but he isn’t a raging sociopath like everyone thinks.”

“Your file said he’s _Very Dangerous_ ,” Geoff protested. “With a capital V and a capital D!”

“He is,” Jack nodded, unconcerned. “But he’s not going on a murder spree just because he’s bored. I don’t know where he is, but he won’t do anything to jeopardize the job.”

“God, I hope you’re right,” Geoff muttered.

* * *

 

Jack, in fact, was completely right.

Ryan was walking around downtown, sans mask and face paint. He looked like a normal guy, not one of the most notorious killers in the country, if not the world. Even if he happened across one of the others, they would never recognize him. Ryan moved differently in civilian clothes, stood differently, seemingly more relaxed. He could pass for a regular suburban dad if he wanted to (and he had, in the past, but that was a whole ‘nother story).

His strolling looked casual enough, but in his mind, he was making detailed notes about various traffic patterns, intersections, building positions, and even possible gang areas and hideouts.

(One poor kid tried to pickpocket him as he cut through an alley. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen, and his grip on the knife was pathetic. Ryan made sure to just break one of his arms in one place instead of two or three in both, as he would have done if the idiot was older or more competent. He didn’t like teenagers, but this one was barely more than a kid, and one of Ryan’s main rules was Don’t Hurt Kids.)

He stopped for a smoke outside a small convenience store, across the street from a taller building. It wasn’t the biggest in the city, just on the edge of being a skyscraper, and nothing about it really stood out from the others, but Ryan hadn’t chosen the spot at random.

He leaned against the wall behind him, taking his time and casually surveying the entrance across from him. A few people went in and out as he waited, mostly people in business casual dress heading to and from lunch. They chatted to each other, probably complaining about coworkers or something. Ryan didn’t particularly care at the moment what the underlings were saying. He was waiting for something more interesting.

He was halfway through his third cigarette when a black sedan with dark tinted windows rolled up. He didn’t react, just took another drag as he watched with what looked like indifference as four men got out of the car. One never even looked up from his phone, tapping away as he maneuvered the busy sidewalk with practiced ease. Two were talking quietly, heads close together as they walked behind the fourth man. They looked as though they were arguing, the shorter, skinnier, dark haired man making increasingly violent hand gestures as the taller, bearded one tried not to laugh. All three of them were lackeys, Ryan guessed, judging by their nice-but-not-too-nice suits. It was the fourth man who interested him.

His suit was tailored, made to look impressive on him, and his shoes shined with an intensity that made Ryan laugh internally. He was snapping orders into his cell phone and walked with authority, not paying any attention to either his arguing bodyguards or to the assistant that never looked away from the small screen in front of him.

They walked into the building and the car rolled away from the curb. Ryan dropped his cigarette, grinding it out with his heel before walking away at the same sedate pace as before.

Ramsey might not be anticipating a run-in with his true targets until much later in the game, but Ryan liked to be prepared. He knew what the Cockbytes boss looked like now, along with what were probably his second-in-command and bodyguards.

Ryan liked to put a face to his marks. That’s why he always hid his own.


	5. Enter the BrownMan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap between updates - getting very busy between golf, school, getting ready for graduation/college, and general life-related stresses.
> 
> But, hey! You get some Ray action in this chapter! Finally, right?

It was without fanfare that a widely respected, feared, and envied sniper arrived in Los Santos, just as the most notorious mercenary and one of the biggest names in the illegal weapons trade had only two days earlier. His ride was parked in the back of the lot, the two occupants bickering inside of the beat up old minivan.

“I’m just saying, it looks like complete shit,” Jones said, gesturing around himself. “You couldn’t find _anything_ even _slightly_ better?”

“It’s inconspicuous!” Geoff defended his vehicle, a tried and true little piece that he had owned for years, back before he ever really got in with his first crew.

“Oh, sure,” Jones snorted. “The bright pink paint job just screams _completely normal_.”

“I have yet to ever be pulled over in this,” he said, with a finality that implied ‘ _so there!_ ’. “The police are so concerned with pulling over people flying by in Adders and Cheetahs that they hardly care about a pink minivan.”

“But it’s hideous!”

Geoff was spared any further comments on his car by the loud ringing on Jones’ phone.

“Where are you?” he answered in lieu of a ‘hello’. “Yep, we’ll be there. Don’t worry,” he rolled his eyes. “You won’t miss us.”

“So where am I going?” Geoff asked as Jones hung up.

“Door Three, he says he’ll be waiting for us.”

The tattooed man nodded and started up the van, heading up towards the airport.

There was a small crowd waiting outside of Door Three, but one peeled off immediately and headed straight for them, a shit-eating grin growing on his face as he neared.

“Long time, no see, dude,” he greeted as he got in the backseat, fist bumping with Jones. “You must be the boss I’ve heard so much about,” he continued, looking towards Geoff. “I like the paint job.”

“Hah! See? This guy can appreciate good taste!” Geoff crowed triumphantly as Jones put his face in his hands and muttered about backstabbers.

“Yeah, it matches my rifle,” BrownMan laughed.

Geoff chuckled, unsure if the sniper, who was much younger than he had expected, was joking or not. He twisted around in his seat to shake the sniper’s hand. “Yeah, I’m the boss,” he said, answering the earlier statement. “Geoff Ramsey.”

“BrownMan, but you can call me Ray.”

* * *

 

The ride back was spent by Ray and Jones (whose first name was Michael, as Ray let slip, which earned him a glare from said man, but Geoff appreciated the new information) catching up, describing in what details they could reveal what had happened since they had last seen each other, about a year ago.

“Hey, I forget, did you ever meet Gavin?” Michael asked at one point.

“No, but you’ve talked about him enough that I feel like I have.”

“Trust me,” Geoff chimed in, “Whatever you heard has nothing on the real experience.”

“Wait, you know him, too?” Ray questioned, then turned to Michael before the older man could answer. “Wait, is he here? Is he in on this?”

“He’s been my partner in crime for the past two years or so,” Geoff answered. “He was the one who got Michael in on this.”

“Really? I assumed you had just called him up and offered to blow him or something.”

The two of them cracked up as Michael scowled. “You’re both assholes, I hope you know that.”

When they had calmed down a bit, the conversation resumed.

“So, who else is in? You said there’d be a six-way split on the take.”

“Well, the three of us, obviously, and Gavin,” Geoff counted out. “Then my old friend Jack, the information specialist, and the King.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out.” Ray made a ‘T’ with his hands like a referee. “The _King_? The _Mad_ King? Mr. Sociopathic Serial Killer For Hire himself?”

“That’s the one.”

“Holy shit, dude, Ryan is awesome!”

Michael twisted around in his seat so fast he got tangled in the seat belt. “You _know_ that crazy mofo?”

“Yeah, we both got hired by some guy down in Dallas a while back,” Ray nodded. “Ended up helping his second pull a coup after the job, got double the pay, and went to the music festival in Austin. We hung out for a few days. Dude’s pretty chill once you get past the skull mask.”

“You went to a goddamn music festival with one of the scariest guys in the business,” Michael gaped at his friend, still twisted up by the seat belt. “And you never told me?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t count!”

“Look, we weren’t speaking at the time! This was right after Chicago!”

“What happened in –?”

“None of your business, Ramsey,” Michael interrupted with a snap.

“It’s not exactly something that comes up in casual conversation, either,” Ray argued. “What was I supposed to do? Call you up and say ‘dude, I know we’re both beyond pissed at each other, but I just got back from hanging out at the Austin music fest with the Mad King, talk to you later’? Like that would have gone over well in any scenario!”

Before Michael could reply Geoff cut in. “Oh my god, will you two just _shut up_?!” he said loudly. When neither spoke, he continued. “Look, I don’t give a shit what happened between you two or you and Haywood before, right now, I just need you all to do what I say and watch each other’s backs, got it?”

They grumbled affirmatives and Geoff sighed. “Like babysitting goddamn three year olds,” he muttered.

* * *

 

Ryan arrived back at the apartment about ten minutes after Geoff and Michael had left. Jack was gone, off to the Vanilla Unicorn for a few hours to make sure everything was running smoothly, and Gavin was playing Halo on the couch. He didn’t even realize Ryan was there until the door closed with a purposeful snap.

“Jesus!” he squawked, jumping at the unexpected sight of Ryan’s mask. He made another distressed bird-like noise as his character died on-screen. “I blame you for that one,” he said pointedly.Ryan shrugged, uncaring. Judging by the stats in the corner of the screen, Gavin hadn’t been doing very good before he walked in, anyways.

A file on the table caught his attention, _BrownMan_ written out in Jack’s neat script. He briefly wondered if the ginger would like him looking at the files, then figured that if it was that big of a deal, they wouldn’t have left it out in the open where anyone could take a peek.

* * *

 

_BROWNMAN_

_Name: Narvaez, Ray (Jr?)  
Alias’ (known): BrownMan, ‘The Shot’   
Description: Male, approx. 5’8, Hispanic, brown eyes, black hair   
Age: Unknown (assumed 20s or 30s)   
Marital Status: Unknown  
_ _Wanted: Murder, Armed Robbery, Drug Possession/Dealing_  
Location: New England, East Coast   
Met: N/A 

_Observations: Narvaez is primarily a hitman for hire (sniping specialty), with a few drug-related misdemeanors (possibly out of boredom?). He seems to be based somewhere on the East Coast, possibly New York, but travels both domestically and internationally for jobs. Despite proximity to some prime mob areas, Narvaez has no known affiliations to any families in operation, or with any gangs, Hispanic or otherwise. He is highly recommended on the underground networks, especially for high-profile targets, with an apparent 100% sniping success rate (possible military training?)._

_Conclusion: Dangerous at a Distance. Narvaez’s melee fighting skills are unreported, and as he prefers sniper rifles over all other weapons, his short-range fighting skills are presumably poor in comparison. Keep him close whenever possible._

* * *

 

So, they were bringing Ray in, now? Ryan smiled underneath his mask. He hadn’t seen the kid in quite some time, and despite the stupid pot jokes, he was actually alright. Not nearly as stuck up as most snipers Ryan had met – but then, that could be the weed. It didn’t really matter either way. Ray was the best shot the older man knew, and he would at least bring a more relaxed mood to the tense atmosphere of Geoff’s apartment.

He set the file back down and looked over at the small TV. Gavin was running through a vaguely familiar map – Ryan hadn’t played enough to recognize it on sight – and yelping whenever an enemy caught him off-guard, which was almost always.

“On your right,” Ryan said tonelessly, dropping the file back on the table and going to stand behind the couch, next to the tiny window, where he would be able to keep some sort of lookout.

Gavin jumped a little when the mercenary spoke, but hastily took down the character coming up on the right. “Thanks,” he muttered, concentrating on the game.

The Brit still wasn’t sure what to make of the other man – even ignoring all the stories, both laughably false and terrifyingly probable, Haywood cut a menacing figure, and he knew it. Even being in the same room as the guy made Gavin a bit twitchier than usual, not so much out of fear, as being unnerved by the man. He was just so bloody calm all the time, and had probably only spoke about six words over the past three days, practically radiating the air of a sleeping tiger the whole time; not necessarily a threat just at that moment, but very capable of becoming one in a fraction of a second. And all that was even without going into the damned skull mask he apparently never took off. Gavin had even gotten into a friendly argument over it with Michael the night before, on whether or not Haywood wore the thing to bed (he thought so, at least sometimes, but Michael had rolled his eyes and punched Gavin in the arm with an only slightly slurred “don’t be stupid, Gav”).

He bit his lip, resisting the urge to turn around every minute or so to check on the mercenary, which would hardly endear him in the other’s eyes, and hoped Geoff and Michael would be back soon, preferably with Jack and the new kid, Ray.


End file.
